


one of these things is more like the other than either thing would like to admit

by rickyisms



Series: it all started with 1 (one) twitter DM [11]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Kind of a character study, M/M, Tumblr Prompts, award shows, it's about the foils and the parallels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickyisms/pseuds/rickyisms
Summary: i woke up with this little idea in my head. take it as a prompt if you want to. i just love your stuff. Kent is getting an Espy award. Whiskey w Jack's help gets an invitation to surprise his secret bf. ( Bitty finally finds out they are dating). they all seat at the same table to help Kent's relationship go unnoticed by everyone else.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Connor "Whiskey" Whisk
Series: it all started with 1 (one) twitter DM [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738009
Comments: 19
Kudos: 164





	one of these things is more like the other than either thing would like to admit

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't exactly the prompt, i don't think, but I got it in my head that I wanted to talk about both relationships and compare and contrast a little bit.  
> takes place in March of Whiskey's third year

The girl sitting next to Whiskey in lecture shoots him a sharp glare when his phone vibrates on his desk. He rolls his eyes. It’s a third year bird course, no one actually needs to know what the professor is saying. 

**unknown number: what are you doing this weekend?**

He squints at his phone, the number looks half familiar but he can’t figure out where he knows it from. 

**unknown number: it’s jack by the way**

**unknown number: zimmermann**

Whiskey will take any excuse to get up and leave class, so he slides his books into his bags and slips out the door. He hits the call button and Jack answers immediately. 

“Hello,” Jack says. 

“Uh,” Whiskey says, “Hi, why do you need to know what I’m doing this weekend?”

“Kent’s winning an ESPY,” Jack says. 

“Oh?” Whiskey says. 

The list of nominees hasn’t come out yet, Whiskey usually checks, though he can’t say he’s ever gotten as passionate about the show as Ford does about the Tonys. 

“Yeah,” Jack says, “I thought it’d be cool to fly you to LA for the weekend but if you’re busy no worries.”

“You want me to come as like, his date?” 

“Well no,” Jack pauses, “I dunno, I thought it’d be nice. It’s dumb”

“No!” Whiskey says, “That’s uh, really sweet actually. Is Bitty coming as like, your date?”

Whiskey can practically feel Jack smiling through the phone, “I’m  _ his  _ date. I mean you’ll technically be my plus one since I have an invite but we’re saying I’m his date. And we’ll sit at the same table, it wouldn’t be weird for one of Bitty’s old teammates to come.”

Right. Because they’re not out together, it would be weird for him to show up just for Kent. They’ve been seen in public together and the hockey media’s picked up on their friendship, but showing up as his date at the ESPYs might be a bit much for a “cute and quirky friendship”

“I can send you the tickets.”

“Wow,” Whiskey says, “This is just, unexpected. I dunno you don’t have to do this.”

“Kenny’s my friend,” Jack says simply, “You should surprise him, I know how tough it is, the distance thing is, he misses you.”

“Uh, yeah, cool, well. Thanks, thank you so much. I uh, don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jack says, “I’ll send you the tickets.”

Whiskey hangs up feeling more than a little confused but excited nonetheless. His email pings a few minutes later with a boarding pass for a flight on friday afternoon and a ticket to the ESPYS. He sees his table assignment, sees that he’s sitting at a table with Jack, Kent and Bitty. And then it hits him. Aw shit, he’s gonna have to tell Bitty that he’s dating Kent Parson. Ah, Jack’s probably told him, if they’re going to LA together. It takes all of his self restraint not to start gushing to Kent about how excited he is to see him on Saturday. 

Never let it be said that Jack Zimmermann is not a hopeless romantic. He loves being in love, he really and truly does believe that Bitty is his soulmate. He wants everyone to be able to feel the way he feels when he looks at Bitty. So he gets Whiskey a hotel room and a plane ticket and rents him a suit. He’s not good at outright telling people how much they mean to him. He doesn’t have the words to tell Whiskey how grateful he is that Kent’s finally happy and secure with someone. But he can do this for them. 

Jack’s already in LA but Bitty and Whiskey end up on the same flight from Rhode Island. They end up sitting next to each other and Whiskey wonders if Jack planned it like this. 

“So,” Bitty says, “How have you been.”

“Oh you know,” Whiskey shrugs, “School. Hockey.”

“Right,” Bitty nods. He’s thumbing at something on his phone. They don’t say until the plane’s in the air, Bitty looks over at him. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he starts off, “But uh, Jack was sort of cagey about why exactly you were comin’ with us and you know, I really do appreciate the support but I guess I never got the impression that we were particularly close at Samwell.”

Right. So Jack hasn’t told Bitty about Whiskey and Kent. Whiskey flashes back to his Taddy tour when Tango asked Bitty about Kent showing up to kegsters, the icy “bless his heart,” that spilled from Bitty’s lips. Whiskey swallows hard. 

“Yeah,” Whiskey starts, “Uh, I’m going to see my boyfriend,” he mumbles, “It was Jack’s idea.”

“Oh?” Bitty says, eyes going even wider than usual. 

“You know him,” Whiskey mumbles. 

Bitty’s looking at him the same way that he did at Samwell when he was trying to get him to talk to him, silently conveying some kind of support. 

“Kent Parson,” Whiskey mumbles. 

It would almost be funny, the face journey Bitty goes on, thinly masked shock and confusion, a smile but a panicked look in his eyes, like he’s remembering how many backhanded compliments he’s given Kent Parson, how many times he’s called him a dirty player. 

“H-how long has this been, uhm, going on for?” Bitty asks. 

“Since last January,” Whiskey says. 

“Huh,” Bitty says, he still looks confused, Whiskey can’t say he blames him. 

“It’s uh, complicated,” Whiskey mutters. 

Bitty nods. 

“I was confused when Jack invited me too, if that helps,” Whiskey says, “It was kinda weird but really really nice,” Whiskey says, “you know, he and Kent are friends, but he said that he  _ understood how hard long distance  _ is. I just really appreciate this,” Whiskey says. 

“Lord,” Bitty says, “That boy,” he smiles to himself. 

They make polite small talk. Whiskey asks about his YouTube channel and his cookbook and then fills him in on the Samwell season. Bitty asks about Dex and Whiskey reassures him that he’s a great captain and he’s still using Bitty’s jam recipe. 

They’re not best friends and they probably never will be, but the conversation is pleasant, they’re aquaintances, old teammates, the boyfriends of a pair of good friends. 

Jack picks them up from the airport, drives them to the hotel. Whiskey’s pretty sure he sees a couple Lakers hanging out in the lobby. 

“So Kent’s going to be here in like an hour,” Jack says, unlocking the door, “They’re making him film a sketch with the hosts.”

Whiskey nods. 

“Bits and I are across the hall if you need anything,” Jack says. 

“Cool,” he shoves his hands in his pocket, “and uh, thanks again for doing this.”

Bitty has his arm wrapped around Jack’s waist. 

“It was nothing,” Jack shrugs. 

“Aw honey,” Bitty stands up to kiss him on the cheek. Whiskey blushes, looks away. He and Kent are the opposite of affectionate in front of most people, Bitty and Jack are just built differently. 

Whiskey has a quick nap and then a shower to wake himself up. He finds a dry cleaning bag in the closet with a plain black suit and it hits him how much effort Jack has put into this. Not just flying Whiskey out for the weekend, but getting the key to Kent’s hotel room and making sure Whiskey got to sit at the same table and coming up with a cover story and picking up his suit. He’s not that close with Jack so he doesn’t quite get it. 

But then he thinks about Tango and Ford. The times he’s run across campus to bring Ford a snack during rehearsal, all of Ford’s friends that Tango’s driven home on closing nights. He’d cross a continent for Kent, but he’d do it for Tango or Ford too. And if they were in love he’d make sure their partners were there too. You move mountains for the people you love, and that includes good friends. 

Whiskey does his hair, puts on his slacks and the dress shirt, leaves his tie and jacket hanging over an arm chair. He gets a text from Jack who still comes up as an unknown number in his phone. 

**Unknown number: he’s coming up by the way.**

Whiskey checks his hair in the mirror quickly and sits down on the edge of the bed. He hears voices coming up the door. 

“I dunno Kenny I think you’ll really like the room,” Jack say. 

“Fuck off Zimms, every hotel is the same.”

“Nah I think this one’s different.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Kent says. 

Whiskey smiles softly to himself, he hears the lock click open. 

“See Zimms just a hotel room,” Kent says, he’s looking back at Jack, Bitty’s behind them. 

“I think it’s alright,” Whiskey says. 

Kent jumps about a foot in the air and shrieks, he drops the lanyard that his key and credential is attached to. His eyes blow open as his gaze lands on Whiskey. His mouth hangs open and he takes a slow step forward. Whiskey stands up, holds his arms open and Kent walks into him and drapes his arms around Whiskey’s neck. Whiskey holds him tight to his chest. 

“How did you… what are you… Are you actually here?” Kent stutters. 

Whiskey threads his arm around Kent’s waist and nods over at Jack. 

“Zimms?” Kent asks. 

Jack shrugs, “If anyone asks he’s here to support his old teammate,” Jack squeezes Bitty’s shoulder.

“Dude,” Kent says. 

Jack shrugs again, “I figured you’d be less miserable if you actually had a date to one of these things for once. 

“Asshole,” Kent snorts. 

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” Kent admits. 

Bitty makes eye contact with Whiskey, they both give an exasperated looks. They might not have much in common but they are both dating goofy manchildren. 

They take the same car to the red carpet. Whiskey avoids the cameras, just follows along slowly, staying out of the spotlight. He thinks it’s sweet that photographers crowd around Bitty and Jack, that they ask for Kent and Jack to take a couple pictures together, but mostly it’s stressful. They finally get into the theatre and Whiskey rejoins the four of them. 

“Are we okay, honey?” he hears Bitty mutter as a waiter points them to their table. Jack nods, the smile that he wears on the red carpet has dropped slightly. 

They find their name cards, see that they’re sitting at a table of eight other athletes, they must still be on the red carpet because the table is mostly empty. Bitty and Jack have their forwards pressed together talking. Whiskey turns to Kent who has somehow already managed to befriend one of the waiters. He convinces him to bring them their drinks early because Kent’s that kind of charming person when he tries to be. 

“So I never got to ask,” Whiskey says, “What award did Bitty win?”

Bitty’s cheeks turn a pale shade of pink, “Just a little humanitarian thing,” he says. 

“It’s the Arthur Ashe courage award,” Jack says like he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to brag. 

“Oh wow,” Whiskey says, “For being the first…” He trails off. 

“Yep,” Bitty says, “Well not just for being the first out captain, Jack and I have been working with a lil charity in New England for LGBT youth athletes.”

“Woah, why didn’t I know about that, that’s awesome,” Kent says, “Let me know if you need anything,” he adds.

“Thanks,” Jack says, “That means a lot.”

Bitty’s smiling through a clenched jaw. 

The rest of their table joins them, a WNBA player and her date who happens to be her 12 year old son and two of the nominees for Best female college athlete. Whiskey recognizes one from Chowder’s girlfriends volleyball games and the other from the women’s frozen four tournament. Kent strikes up a conversation with the WNBA player, he talks to her son and grins the whole time. 

Whiskey doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to the hosts or the presenters, they’re motley C-list celebrities or former athletes. He sips his champagne. Someone comes to get Bitty about ten minutes before he’s supposed to accept his award. He’s very southern and polite about the whole thing, like he’s embarrassed to be getting recognized for something. 

The ESPYs aren’t exactly known for their fashion moments, so Whiskey’s almost certain that Bitty’s going to end up on some best dressed lists for wearing a floral suit with a white shirt underneath. 

He tunes in as the presenters, a comedian and an actress, introduce Bitty. They play a montage that starts with Bitty and Jack kissing at centre ice of the Stanley cup final. They flash a couple of Bitty’s highlights on the screen, headlines about Bitty being the first out NCAA captain flash around him. They play footage of analysts (notably none from ESPN) question Bitty’s size and strength and the “culture of his locker room” and then it pivots to a sideline interview with Bitty at the frozen four. 

“We’re a team, it’s about what happens on the ice, but I can assure you, our locker room supports each other one hundred per cent,” he steels his face and nods, walking away. 

There’s a shot of Bitty taking a hit in the final, falling down, the screen goes dark and then explodes back to life as Bitty gets up and charges. The montage flashes to Bitty holding the cup, to Jack kissing him, to Whiskey and Tango and Ford skating behind Bitty whooping and cheering. It ends with a quote from one of Bitty’s interviews that they got him to repeat during another ideline interview. 

“It’s tough but you’re tougher,” he says and then it flashes to a still of Jack and Bitty sitting in front of a classroom full of young teenagers, grinning and talking. 

Bitty takes the stage and accepts the award.

“Thank you so much to the folks at ESPN, to my college teammates. To everyone who’s given me the opportunity to speak my truth. And of course to my boyfriend Jack Zimmermann who’s been on this journey with me,” he clears his throat, “And to every kid who might be watching, who thinks that they can’t play sports because they’re gay or because their gender expression is a little bit different, because they’re transgender or gender non-conforming, I want you all to know that we’re trying to make things better for y’all. That we’re carving out places for ourselves, and that it’s slow, but progress is happening. You don’t have to be out, you don’t have to kiss your same gender partner at centre ice of a championship game, but if you want to, well I’m glad you won’t have to be the first anymore. Thank you so much.” Bitty flashes a smile. 

Whiskey shifts in his seat, he glances over at Kent. His eyes have glassed over. Whiskey reaches under the table and squeezes his hand, quickly and discretely, but Kent swallows the lump in his throat and nods. Whiskey takes a small sip of his champagne. Bitty walks back to their table. Jack wraps his arm around his waist and kisses him. 

“That was a really good speech, Bittle,” Kent says, his voice is rough and hoarse. 

“I really liked it,” the WNBA player says. 

“Yeah,” the hockey player agrees, “I really liked what you said about trying to make things better. My girlfriend’s an equestrian and she’d definitely tell you that people are still asholes. She hates it when people tell her she has to be out to make a difference, y’know?”

“Well,” Bitty says, “You know,” he shrugs, “We’re just tryin’ to make it better for the next kids.but Not everyone has to do that, I don’t think, not everyone is outspoken. Someone showed me that,” Bitty says, he looks up quietly at Whiskey.

Kent nods quietly. 

“Good job,” he says, “I meant it about the charity stuff, let me know if you need anything.”

Whiskey has a feeling that whatever charity Jack and Bitty are working with is going to wake up to a huge donation. 

He sees the conflict on Bitty’s face. Whiskey knows that Bitty’s never liked Kent, never quite known why. But he also knows that Bitty has a good heart, that he cares about other people. And it’s obvious that Kent felt some kind of way about Bitty’s speech. Whiskey doesn’t think he’s witnessing the start of a beautiful friendship or anything, but maybe he’s witnessing two guys learning not to hate each other. 

Jack pipes up. 

“I’ll send you the details,” he says to Kent. 

It’s weird, Whiskey thinks. Sitting at a table with his former captain who is his current boyfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s boyfriend. At least they can listen to a comedian who hasn’t put out a special in three years make fun of Peyton Manning’s forehead. 

Someone comes to get Kent the same way they came to get Bitty. They play a montage like they did for Bitty. Kent’s goals, his cellies, his charming interview moments. They play that clip of him tying his skate at the all-star game. It’s lighthearted and silly and that’s how the world sees Kent. A fun guy, loves hockey, likes to crack a joke.Kent accepts with his characteristic sideways smirk. He’s accepting an award for most entertaining athlete. Makes a joke about whether he should take up juggling and join the circus after he’s done with hockey. 

Whiskey doesn’t notice when Kent comes back, just feels his hand on his shoulder during the next commercial break. 

“Let’s ditch,” Kent whispers. 

“Are you sure?” Whiskey asks. 

“Yeah, c’mon,” Kent says. He picks up his champagne and drains it. 

Kent gives Jack a look for half a second and Jack stands up, bringing Bitty with him. They sneak around the back, past a couple waiters and out of the theatre. Kent undoes his tie the second they’re on the sidewalk.

“I still hate award shows,” he says. 

“Can’t believe you don’t like attention,” Jack rolls his eyes. 

“This is the wrong kind.”

“And your body issue is the right kind?”

“Fuck  _ off,”  _ Kent elbows him, “It’s not like I did softcore porn. It was tasteful”

“Well,” Whiskey starts. 

Kent turns around, hands on his hips, “What are you implying.”

Whiskey puts his arms around Kent’s shoulder, “I’m not saying that I had a copy of that magazine under my mattress in high school but I’m also not  _ not  _ saying that.”

“Y’all wanna go to the beach?” Bitty says in a very distinct  _ Let’s! Change! The! Subject!  _ Tone of voice, “I think we should walk to the beach.”

“You sure Bits? We’re not really dressed for it,” Jack says. 

Bitty shrugs. 

“Yeah okay,” Jack ays. 

“If you guys are down I’m down,” he looks over at Kent and Whiskey. 

They walk to the beach. The beautiful thing about Los Angeles is that absolutely no one recognizes them. 

The beach is empty as far as they can see. 

Jack looks out at the ocean, it’s dark and it’s cold, March in Los Angeles. He shrugs off his jacket and looks at Kent. 

“Race you,” he says. 

Kent narrows his eyes, shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Whiskey. He unbuttons his pants, Jack does the same. They throw their shirts into the sand and take off running. 

Kent shrieks when he dives into the water, Jack whoops. 

Bitty and Whiskey leave their clothes on a bench and walk to the waterline, still clothed. 

“Hey,” Whiskey says, “uh, sorry if this was weird for you, I know how you feel about Kent.”

Bitty shrugs, shakes his head “If they’re friends, they’re friends.”

Whiskey nods. They look forward, Kent and Jack are roughhousing in the waves. 

“They certainly seem to have forgiven each other,” Whiskey says. 

“Indeed they have,” Bitty laughs, “Honey you’re gonna freeze in there!” Bitty calls out to Jack. 

“I’m not planning your funeral if you drown!” Whiskey calls next. 

Jack and Whiskey come out of the water shivering and dripping. Whiskey lets Kent nuzzle against his chest. 

They find a lifeguard tower and the four of them climb up to the top. Whiskey slips his hand into Kent’s and rests his head on his shoulder. It’s a nice night, chilly, Kent’s naked from the waist up, he smells like saltwater and his hair’s dripping on whiskey’s blazer. Whiskey can’t find it in himself to care.

“Proud of you,” Whiskey whispers. 

He looks over at Jack and Bitty. Different but the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!


End file.
